


The Phone Call (Will's Entry #10) & 1 AM, Hunger and Viscera (Will's Entry #11)

by WillGrahamJournals



Series: Will Graham's Journal and File Archives - BSHCI [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Diary/Journal, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:45:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillGrahamJournals/pseuds/WillGrahamJournals
Summary: Forced voyeurism and jealousy.Will focuses on his body.





	The Phone Call (Will's Entry #10) & 1 AM, Hunger and Viscera (Will's Entry #11)

**The Phone Call (Will's Entry #10)**

My back is bruised from pushing against a corner of my cell so hard. I must have been like that for an hour until Barney came to check on how I was doing with my phone call to Brauer. I didn’t hear him the first time. What he must think of me now, finding me like that. Knees embraced tightly, eyes blank as I tried to hide in places untouched by my recent history. Thoughts of home suddenly didn’t feel as safe to me anymore.

The phone receiver hung low, chord taught as the dial tone hummed. Barney called a warning out to me and I stood up and faced the corner, hands on my head. He and guards followed procedure and moved the phone out, disappearing down the hall and out the gates. Still, I stood facing the corner lost in the memory of what I had just heard.

Brauer’s answering machine, cut off by a few faint clicks. Silence. Alana’s voice. A recording.

Plans made over the phone. Heavy courting. Flirting. Innuendo. Silence.

Alana’s voice. No words. Just her voice.

-Will Graham, journal entry #10

* * *

**1 AM, Hunger and Viscera (Will's Entry #11)**

Left alone with my thoughts. Waiting in the dark on my back. I anticipate little sleep and a heavy dream that ignites at the final hour before waking. I don’t know what dream it will be. But I can guess who will be in it.

When I think of what angers me about him, I quickly have to brush away the first phrase that enters my skull, which I will not say aloud. It’s too ludicrous. It’s unsettling in that only one physical aspect keeps it from being complete truth. Beyond physicality or simply unconsummated? These notions are residuals of the manipulation. I have to shake them off.

The hairs on my arms stand on end and tingle, as if the night granted them sentience. I flex my hands, activating heat to warm the cold sweat on my palms. My blood pulses in my ears with a faraway _tick tick tick_ : my internal clock counting down to the day my body seizes completely and dies. That is, if no external force of man or nature interrupts it.

I concentrate on my abdomen, imagining my organs rubbing together in rhythm. I suddenly have an internal itch I want to scrape away. Out of reach under layers of skin and muscle. I see my liver on an elegant setting of bird skulls and berries. I’m disgusted by the pang of hunger that rumbles in my belly.

The ceiling vibrates in the low light, a million wings of silent moths crashing into blackness. I rest my hands on my belly, fingers absently rubbing my clothed skin. Existing in this cell. I’ve been fighting the reality of it, retreating in my mind. I never really allowed myself to be in the moment.

Alana’s voice from the recording flutters into my consciousness. My imagination latches onto to it and molds it to a desirable scenario. She is talking to me, laughing with me, making plans with me. Completely stable and of sound mind, I am the man she needs.

The second part of the recording invades this fantasy and stirs an uncontrollable, visceral response. I hide my shame under the darkness of a scratchy blanket.

I write this now, in present tense so that if it ever goes too far and I am the brink of losing myself, I at least have this moment documented. A moment of pure being.

-Will Graham, journal entry #11

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published at willgrahamjournals (Tumblr), August 29 and 30, 2013, respectively.


End file.
